


Fights and Flames

by castaliareed



Series: Dark Sister, Dark Nights [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Accidental Kissing, Brienne of Tarth (mentioned) - Freeform, Creepyfinger is discussed in this because of course that's who Jon is jealous of, Dry Humping, Dry Orgasm, F/M, Ghost is alive and well and getting some petting, Jealous Jon Snow, Jealousy, Jonsa Smut Week 2017, Play Fighting, Sibling Incest, Smut, These two are really in denial, Tormund Giantsbane (mentioned) - Freeform, ghost - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-08 02:32:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12854850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castaliareed/pseuds/castaliareed
Summary: Day 2 of Jonsa Smut Week - Everything but consummation or Jealousy. In this case a little bit of both.Jon is jealous and wants to speak with Sansa about it. Their talk takes an unexpected turn when she begs him not to do anything stupid.





	Fights and Flames

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for all your comments on yesterday's post! This one got longer than expected! Just a few notes. 
> 
> It's chapter 2 of yesterday's post, Just a Taste, in the Dark Sister series. Since, this is Jonsa Smut week, I decided to post these each as their own work. 
> 
> Jon and Sansa still think they are half-siblings and they still think their nightly encounters are all 'fun and games'. In truth, Jon is half dealing with memory issues and half doesn't care. B.c. well, when you have a hot sister...And Sansa..I mean she internalized/developed some pretty bad habits when it comes to how to act around men you are supposed to be related to during her time in the Vale.
> 
> Feel free to forget about all their emotional problems and focus on the smut.  
> And lastly, sorry if there are plot holes between this and the last chapter. There might be, there might not. This is really about the sexy times.

**Jon**

Jon woke early to go to the training yard before breaking his fast. He stretched in nothing but his small clothes. There was a faint tart taste in his mouth. He ate little these days and this morning he was even less hungry than usual. He noticed his fingers smelled of lemons before he washed them in the basin of cold water. Jon tried to remember if he took a late night snack while he put on his breeches.  _That seemed unlikely._  They had no cakes with dinner and he wouldn't have eaten them anyway. Sansa loved treats not him. He shook his head thinking of his beautiful half-sister's sweet tooth. He had a faint memory of her offering him a lemon cake.  _Kind and beautiful, he was a lucky bastard to have a sister like that._ Concluding she must have paid him a visit the night before with a treat from the kitchen to offer, Jon continued to dress for the training yard. 

The castle was quiet as he made his way to the yard.  The smell of lemons hit him, he wasn't near the kitchens. It didn't matter, the scent of freshly baked cakes found its way to him. Cakes for the feast that evening. He thought again of Sansa. He was sure he remembered her bringing a cake to him. Before he could try to remember further, he was in the yard ready to pick up blunted steel and hit something. 

Sweat beading on his face while he hit the training dummies, he stopped for a moment to wipe his forehead. Others joined him, Lady Brienne, his half-sister's sworn sword, the Wildling leader, Tormund, a few Vale knights and the young Cerwyn lord joined him. All ready to practice their fighting. Jon didn't see Sansa watching him from the covered walkway at first. The winter sun shined bright that cold morning. Once, he caught sight of the light hitting copper hair, Jon stared back thinking about another cold morning north of the Wall.  _The sun always hit her hair like that. Kissed by fire._   She gave him a slight smile and he returned it. He watched her put a gloved finger to her mouth and he thought of lemon cakes. In the shadows, he was distracted by a figure moving toward her. His eyes moved beyond her to the figure and she followed his gaze to see Littlefinger approaching.

The Lord Protector of the Vale leaned against the railing speaking with Sansa. Jon felt his heart racing and anger rising in his belly.  _Only a fool would trust Littlefinger._  He dropped the training sword and tore off the half-helm making his way to the stairs of the walkway.

Before Jon could reach the stairs, Lady Brienne herself climbed them. Jon could not hear what she said to Sansa and Lord Baelish. The Lord Protector did not linger long.  _Good,_  Jon thought.

Sansa glanced back down at the yard giving a Jon a look of warning. She had seen him rush toward the stairway. He placed the half-helm back on and returned to hitting the dummies.

Jon avoided Sansa for the rest of the day sensing she was displeased with him.  His time was being taken up by some lord or another that afternoon.  _Where had they all come_ _from_? A few even introduced him to their daughters. When Lord Glover brought a comely niece before him, he thought he caught a glimpse of Sansa at the far end of the corridor watching them. 

Still, she did not appear until the feast. In the Great Hall, he sat next to her while they brought food and wine and ale. Gifts from the Lords eager to make amends for not supporting them in the Battle of the Bastards. Sansa accepted them with grace. He eyed every Lord that looked at her. She sat tall next to him in a greyish black velvet with a direwolf embroidered on the front of her chest. He was relieved to find that Lord Glover's niece seemed to have caught a case of an upset stomach before the feast and was forced to stay in her room. 

Jon was drawn away to talk with the wildlings when they brought out the lemon cakes. He watched Sansa eat hers with greed, licking her fingers when she caught him staring at her. There was a rising in his belly and he wished she would lick his fingers. Jon was distracted again when Tormund poured him more ale. When he looked up Sansa had disappeared. Questioning her Lady knight, he was told she wanted to prepare for tomorrow's meeting.  He drank with the Lords a while longer before the Lady Knight taped him on his soldier. Sansa wanted to speak with him. 

Stopping at the kennel first, he summoned Ghost, the ever faithful beast, to join him. Sansa would want to brush him. A welcome distraction if indeed she was displeased. 

The white wolf entered the room first followed by Jon. The beast walked straight to Sansa letting her pet him. She grabbed a brush left on the table from a previous day and ran it through Ghost's white fur. Jon chose to sit in a high-backed chair facing Sansa, his back to the fire in the hearth. Another chair was close to the fire placed on a bearskin rug. He admired how cozy the room looked. Sansa had done good work, he thought. 

The room was warm. Jon loosened his jerkin before deciding to take it off. She glanced at him while he tossed it over the back of the chair. He was much more comfortable in his tunic and breeches. His thoughts returned to the morning and Lord Baelish. 

Perhaps seeing his frown, she gave him a warm smile while she brushed Ghost. She stopped soon much to the wolf's dismay and told him to go sit by the fire. Turning her attention back to Jon, she said, "We need to speak Jon." He nodded. "About the meeting with the Lords and Ladies tomorrow." He remembered.

"What did Littlefinger want this morning?" Jon asked.

"Nothing of importance," she said with a wave of her hand. Jon stared harder he wanted to talk about Lord Baelish. The Lords and Ladies could wait. 

"You said not to trust him," Jon reminded her.

"Yes, I said not to trust him. That didn't mean be rude to him," she chided Jon. He was silent not understanding her meaning. He had not even spoken to the Lord Protector of the Vale. In truth, he could not stand the sight of him. Knowing that he had given, his radiant half-sister to the monster, Ramsey Bolton was enough to make Jon's blood curdle. Seeing him speak to Sansa was even worse. 

"Oh Jon, you've not said one word to the man. That has not gone unnoticed," she told him. "And I saw you rush toward the stairs when he came to speak with me. Lucky for us, Lady Brienne interceded first. He leads the Vale knights for now."

"What does he want?"

Sansa was silent. She kept her hands hidden underneath her cloak but Jon knew she was wringing them. Getting up Sansa walked toward the fire not meeting Jon's eyes. Standing a top the giant bearskin rug, she watched the flames. The firelight touched her copper hair.

Finally, she said, "You know what he wants."

Jon stood so abruptly even Ghost raised his head, "No" was all he could say.

"I know.." she started to say.

"I'll kill him,"

"You can't kill him," she said. "Not yet."

"Who says," Jon responded.

Sansa turned to face him, "I do."

"We could have him executed tomorrow," he said. Jon had seen men look at women the way Littlefinger looked at Sansa. He had seen it with the Wildlings. He had seen it in the eyes of his brothers at the Wall before a night spent with whores in Moletown. "Or do you care for him?" Jon asked not wanting to hear the answer. 

"Don't be foolish," she said turning back to the flames. 

'Aye, you think I'm a fool?" he asked anger in his voice. Sansa remained silent. Jon stepped toward her. "I don't like how he looks at you. I don't like how he speaks to you. I don't like what he did to you."

"I don't want to fight about this. You want to send away the Knights of the Vale, are strongest, healthiest allies?"

"Only him," 

"Well, you can't," Sansa said. "We have to get more Vale Lords on our side..." Her voice trailed off in thought. Jon felt his breath grow heavy in his chest. He moved closer to her.

"If he touches you," 

"Too late for that," she said. In his belly, a rage began to rise. 

"Before, when he first took me to the Vale," she tried to assure him. "He kissed me...I didn't want him, too." Jon pushed the chair closest to the hearth clear across the room. It hit the floor on its side with a loud bang. The rage had risen in his belly. He would not let another man touch Sansa ever again. His chest was heaving and his mind went blank. 

"Jon!" Sansa's voice rose. "Don't! What are you doing?" He didn't even notice Ghost rise from his corner near the hearth. He was already walking towards the door intent on finding Lord Baelish. Jon would kill him no matter what Sansa said. 

"Stop," she said. "You can't..."  Sansa's hand reached out grabbing Jon's arm. He turned to face her. 

Her eyes widened seeing Jon's anger, understanding what he meant to do. "No, no, no," she said. "He'll hurt you. He hurts people."

"Not if I kill him first," Jon said with a low growl. 

"And then the knights of the Vale will leave or worse they will seek revenge," she said. "No please..." Tears were welling up in her deep blue eyes.

"Jon, please," she whispered both hands now gripped on his forearms. "I can't..."

Her chest pressing against his, her face close to his. She moved her hands up and down his arms, calming him. Jon leaned his forehead against hers. She was his, his only family. 

"If anything happens to you..." he said. "If anyone hurts you."  She tilted her face to one side gazing at him through moist eyes.

"No one will hurt me with you here," she cooed still rubbing his biceps. Jon felt his breathing slow. _No one can protect anyone,_  he thought he remembered her saying.  

Jon raised his hands to either side of her face, searching for the truth in her words. She lowered her eyes, tilting the top of her head towards him. They were so close. Just as he started to kiss her forehead, she lifted her face a slight bit to say, "Jon...I..." the rest of the words lost as his lips met hers.  _I meant to kiss her forehead like I did after the battle._

Jon did not pull away as he should, as he was told a brother should. He waited for her to pull back and she did not.  _Lemon cakes, she tastes like lemon cakes._  His burnt hand found its way to the back of her head and his other moved down to her neck. He pressed harder into her mouth. His lips parted and his tongue searched for hers. She responded opening her mouth just wide enough for their tongues to meet. 

He pulled away to catch his breath, his breathing gone heavy again. Her body slid towards him, her knees going weak. He caught her in his arms and she giggled. The tears faded into soft laughter.

"Jon, you were supposed to kiss my forehead," she said playfully hitting his chest as he held her in his arms. 

"Aye, I tried, my lady, you moved," he said. She regained her footing and started to stand properly again. Jon did not let go. 

"I did not.." she started to say with another giggle. 

He gave her a dark smile not letting go of her, "But you did." She laughed gently hitting his chest again. 

"Silly, we aren't supposed to kiss like that," she said.  _How were they supposed to kiss,_  he wondered. He had a hazy memory of a time before his death of a sister that showered him with light kisses when they were young. He remembered a red-haired girl that did more, much more. Jon could only shrug in response, perhaps he could ask someone. Then he remembered there was no one left to ask. 

Sansa raised her hand again when he shrugged. He grabbed it before she could hit him another time. Pursing her lips with a devilish grin, she tried to pull it away. Jon held on. The second time she pulled harder and they both tumbled to the floor laughing. They laid next to each other on the bearskin rug breathing heavily staring at the wooden beams of the rafters. 

She sat up for a moment undoing her cloak complaining that it was hot. Jon laid on his back looking up at her next to him. She gently pushed his side, chiding him for making her sweat. He smiled his hand reaching for her waist. His thoughts went to a time Ghost slept between them.  _Was that North or South of the Wall?  Was it before he came back from death or after? It made no matter. Whenever it was she complained the beast made her hot then, too._

"I'm not too hot," he said gripping her waist then moving his hand to just below the curve of her breasts. 

"Really?" she said fanning herself. "Because a moment ago you wanted to kill someone." She reached under her skirts to pull off her woolen and silk grey stockings. 

"I still do," he said moving his hand up and down her waist, playing with the fabric of her dress. "But it can wait."

"That's better," she mumbled tossing the stockings to the side before leaning over him and pressing both hands to his chest. He liked looking up at her with her copper waves hanging down either side of her face, the flames from the hearth dancing in her hair. 

"I won't let you, Jon Snow," she said. "Not yet." She placed a finger to his lips saying again, "Not yet." He opened his mouth slightly to taste her finger. She leaned her face closer to whisper in his ear, "I mean it." Jon liked when she pretended to fight with him. Her soft hits, squeezes to his arm, small pouts. He turned his head catching her lips in his. She kissed him back, before pulling away. Both his hands found either side of her waist and he pulled her on top of him. She squirmed raising up and placing her hands on his chest again. 

"I said, that's not how brothers kiss their sisters," she said her hips straddling his waist. There was a twitch in his breeches.  

"How do they kiss then?" he asked her. He had stopped laughing and he wasn't sure if he cared.

"Like this," Sansa leaned forward giving him a light kiss on his cheek very close to the corner of his mouth. Her hips moved lower when she gave him her soft chaste kiss, light as a butterfly. His cock stiffened underneath his breeches feeling the warmth between her legs through her skirts. He found himself wondering if her small clothes were moist. He pressed her tighter to him and she giggled and squirmed in his embrace. 

"Only one kiss?" he asked her. She nodded and he narrowed his eyes. 

"You think you deserve kisses and hugs when you threaten to kill our most important ally?" she said grabbing his tunic. Jon thought he did.  He sighed, he would think of ways to kill Lord Baelish later. 

"Promise me you won't do anything stupid," she said.

"I promise," he assured her not wanting to truly fight with her. She lowered her head to kiss his cheek still holding his tunic. He brushed a piece of her hair away from her face. 

Sansa kissed him again on his other cheek, then the scar above his eye, "Thank you." Jon felt his cock grow even harder.  While, she showered his face with more light butterfly kisses, the squirming of her hips had slowed into a rhythmic motion.  He found himself lifting his cock in between her legs, she pressed her hips towards him in response. Gods, Jon wanted to find her lips and kiss her deeper. She had said that's not how they were supposed to kiss. 

"Thank you," she said again in between kisses. "Thank you for fighting for me." He mumbled in response. Sansa ran her hands under his tunic while he pressed his cock into her. Underneath her skirts, he could feel her move her legs apart even further pressing down on him.  Through all the fabric of their winter's wools, his cock seemed to know where to press into her. She moaned. Her kisses stopped and he felt her breath on his neck. 

A dark thought took over him and Jon grabbed her wrists and flipped her on to her back. She let out a loud shout followed by a laugh. 

"Not fair, you're stronger than me," she said moving underneath him. His weight pushed down on her, he let go of her wrists. 

"Aye," he said. 

"I'm strong too," she said grabbing his tunic to pull him even closer. "I can fight back."

"I know," he said with a laugh. Her eyes searched his, Jon wondered if she wanted to play fight more or kiss him. He preferred Sansa's kisses.

She gripped his tunic tightly and pulled his face to his so their noses were touching. He could feel her hips lifting, pushing in to his cock. His cock that was stretching to get out of his breeches. He moved back and forth between her legs and soon she was moaning again. Her face buried in his neck. Jon changed his mind he preferred this to even her kisses. 

Sansa's skirts started to rise up the faster he pressed his hips into her. She rubbed against him just as fast. His hands found her bare thighs, her skin soft and warm. He brushed his hand over her small clothes.  _The old gods and new could not have made them wetter._ Her arms wrapped around his waist tearing at the back of his tunic. Her legs grasped even tighter around his hips She threw her head back as her moans got louder. 

Jon felt her legs shake and his own breath grew heavy. He almost forgot how much his cock yearned to be free of his breeches. When she cried out, he let his seed spill before he could stop it. He didn't care. His body clasped on top of her and she ran her fingers along his back. After a few moments, he rolled off of her. She pulled her skirts down. Her eyes were moist and brushed away a single tear that had fallen on her cheek. 

They laid on the rug in silence watching the flames in the hearth. His arms around her, neither sure what to say or do. Ghost came to lay next to them. Sansa lifted her arm to pet him and let him lick her hand. She yawned. Ghost nudged her and stood. 

Sighing, Sansa sat up, "Jon Snow, we aren't children. We shouldn't be play fighting like that," she said looking down at him with a dark laugh. "Look at the mess you made!" She added pointing to his pants. 

"How should we play, then?" he asked her. 

With no answer for him, Sansa leaned forward giving him another light kiss on his cheek. _Always the proper lady._  He made note of her satisfied smile before standing to leave the room.

"Goodnight, Jon," she said. Ghost followed her out of the solar brushing against her side and nudging her hand. Begging for more petting.  _Greedy beast,_  Jon glared at the back of the wolf knowing she would let the animal in her room to sleep next to her. He'd remember to have words with his direwolf tomorrow.  

**Author's Note:**

> In my head 'Everything but consummation' means dry humping...because...well dry humping.


End file.
